


Primal Instincts

by TheMightyFlynn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Breeding, Don't copy to another site, Dubious Morality, Interspecies Sex, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 20:39:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17905235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyFlynn/pseuds/TheMightyFlynn
Summary: Harry uses his Dementor for mind blowing orgasms. He doesn't know that he is also being used.





	Primal Instincts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [HP_Kinkfest](https://hp-kinkfest.livejournal.com) for the prompt: Nonhuman sex. Something new or unexpected, e.g., Dementors (to breed gives their sexual partner a high). Bestiality and dub con are fine.

Primal instincts drive every animal. The need to simply survive is the strongest any of us ever feel. For Dementors, it is no different.

_Fear_. The bright lights of the Patronuses that chased the Dementors out of Azkaban castle struck such a cord inside of him that fateful night that he fled. Racing down the corridors as the Patronuses chased him, he left the others behind to be taken.

_Anger_. He had failed his brethren. He had fled and allowed them to be murdered as the Aurors had rushed the castle. Some days, it felt as though his anger at himself was the only thing that kept him going.

_Love_. It was a second-hand emotion, to be drawn into himself from other beings. It sustained him, being the strongest of the emotions he could draw from. It had been too long since he had felt the sweet sensation flowing into himself; too long since he had sucked that beautiful warmth from someone.

_The desire to breed_. This instinct was the strongest he felt. He could very well be the last of his kind. It was his duty to his species, especially considering how he had failed them in the past. Every single bit of energy he drained from another went towards either sustaining him, or was stored away to use for breeding.

Floating in the basement of Azkaban castle, he waited. Time was lost on him. The only times he was truly awake were his feedings, and even they were not regular. Or so he thought.

The sense of a human came to him slowly, as it always did. The man could shield his mind very easily against the Dementor’s magic, weak as he was. But that didn’t stop him. Rising from his position against the far wall, the Dementor moved to float in the middle of the small room he had occupied since the night of the purge.

The human mind was getting closer with each second, moving down through the castle to the basement. Energy pulsed and spiked, a sense of happiness and desire that quite pleased the Dementor. He would feed well that night, well enough that it might be enough for him to be able to breed. _Might_. If the man gave himself as easily as he usually did.

*~*

Harry was drunk. Well, not necessarily _drunk_ , he thought. He was not staggering, not slurring his words, and his mind was almost clear. Maybe ‘nicely tipsy’ might be more appropriate. Just enough to dull his senses and physical sensations.

He was not proud of this. What man could be proud of needing to be slightly pissed before going to visit his… lover? Partner? Sex slave? He didn’t really have a word for what he was doing. But that had never stopped him. The sensations he felt when he was with his Dementor were… amazing. Beautiful. Mind blowing. They so far outstripped anything Harry had been able to find with a human man that it was laughable. The mere memory of them had his cock twitching in his jeans as he walked. _That_ was why he knew to take the precaution of dulling his senses: being with his Dementor was overwhelming, and he wanted to last.

Azkaban castle’s basement was not the most inviting place for a rendezvous. But it was fitting, he figured. Cold stone surrounded him as he travelled further down into the castle. There was no wood here to warm the place up, as it would have rotted away centuries ago. No, stone and iron were what surrounded him as he made his way to the basement level of the castle.

He could feel the effects almost as soon as he pushed the iron door open. A desperate press against his mental wards was his Dementor’s greeting. Harry smiled as his eyes adjusted to the gloom of the basement. Floating just above the ground in the middle of the room was his Dementor.

From what Harry could tell, it was nothing special. Tall, hooded, and cloaked, the Dementor seemed to be driven by nothing other than the need to feed. It was an instinct that drove all beings, he knew, but this was different somehow. His Dementor seemed desperate, always battering against Harry's shields to get to him. He had never stopped to think why, and he did not stop that night.

“Hello,” he greeted it, another smile tilting his lips. “Have you missed me?”

Another sharp battering of his shields was the only response he knew he would receive. Running a hand down his stomach, he lifted the hem of his shirt and traced his fingers around the waistband of his jeans.

“You know what I want.”

His Dementor drew in a rattling breath and glided closer. Harry's skin tingled as the sense of the Dementor’s power grew stronger against his shields. He was the only person he knew of who could shield against the Dementor’s power, and he thanked his lucky stars that he could. He had not questioned it beyond wondering whether those who had been touched by death developed the ability to ward against the Dementors, and he was in no state to question it that night, either.

“That’s right,” he murmured as his Dementor drew closer still. “Come get me.”

The first touch of his Dementor’s magic was not gentle. Harry could feel his emotions being drained even through his shields. Closing his eyes, he grinned.

“That’s it… A little stronger…”

He would not let his shields drop. Being drained full-force was not pleasurable at all, as he recalled. This, however… His body tingled with reaction as the Dementor battered at his shields.

“You want me, don’t you? You want me desperately.”

His Dementor drew in another rattling breath and increased its efforts. Harry sucked in a breath through his teeth as he felt himself hardening in his jeans. _This_ is what he craved on those long nights on his own: someone who desired him with such desperation it was almost palpable.

Lust began to build in him as he slipped his hand down to unzip his jeans. It was drawn from him almost as soon as he felt it, but he knew his Dementor could not keep up with him. There was something so erotic about being the sole focus of someone so powerful that Harry just could not help himself. He was already hard by the time he released himself from his jeans. His Dementor did not stop trying to drain him, but he did not want it to.

“Come on and have me, then.”

Stepping back until he felt his shoulders come to rest against the cold stone wall, Harry grinned. Lust rushed through him with surprising speed as he felt the Dementor trying to break through his shields. His arms and legs tingled, his chest tightened, and his mind began to spin. Casting a silent lubrication charm, he began to stroke.

His Dementor followed him to the wall. Drifting closer, its focus was solely on Harry. It didn’t stop moving until it was almost pressed up against him; mere centimetres separating them.

“You need me.” Harry stared into the dark shadows beneath the hood. “You’re gagging for it.”

The alcohol dulling Harry's senses seemed to not be having as strong an effect on him that night as usual. As his Dementor increased its power, Harry's heartrate increased with it. The sensations flowing through him seemed different that night, almost heightened rather than dulled. His head fell back against the wall as his body shook with reaction.

“You… You’re so desperate for me…”

Harry's stomach muscles clenched as he felt the warmth of his orgasm building rapidly in the small of his back. He was not going to last very long, despite his precautions. The sensation of his emotions being drained increased, pulling the lust from him faster than before.

“I – ohh…”

His hand stuttered as his mouth fell open. His Dementor was the only thing he had ever found that was more powerful than he, and it was now showing that power in earnest. Harry's mind spun with the knowledge that he was completely under his Dementor’s power.

“Please…”

The Dementor raised an empty sleeve, the cloth brushing lightly over the tip of Harry's hard and leaking cock. It was enough. Harry let out a deep groan as his orgasm hit, and hit hard. He tried to keep up his rhythm as his cock spasmed, shooting his release up and over his hand and chest, but he failed. His knees buckled and he collapsed to the dirt floor.

*~*

Too soon, it was too soon. The emotions flowing rapidly from the human stopped way too early. The Dementor stood and watched as he screamed, white liquid splashing all over his clothing. The emotions were dulling already, the man’s shields too strong for the Dementor to break through them without assistance.

He would not give up, however. He was so close to being able to breed. All he needed was a couple more minutes with this man. Floating down so he was hovering over the man’s prone form, the Dementor began trying to drain him again.

“Eager tonight, aren’t you?”

The man’s voice was rough and breathless. The emotions flowing through him were now more of languid peace than of the desperate lust that had driven him down here, but that made no difference. The Dementor would get what he wanted from this man, and he would get it tonight. Increasing the strength of his power, he leant closer still, trying to find a crack in the man’s defences.

“Mmm, you still want me, eh? Needy fucker.”

A tiny sliver of that sweet, warm emotion he craved so much made it through the shields, sending the Dementor’s senses into overdrive. _There was hope._

“Ohhh… Yeah, you want me.”

The Dementor watched as the man’s hand began to move again. The column of flesh that was usually hard had begun to soften the second the white fluid had splashed over the man’s chest, but that was now changing again. Each stroke of the man’s hand seemed to harden the flesh even further.

“I’m up for a second round.”

The second the words formed, the man let his shields down a fraction, hitting the Dementor with a building wall of lust from which to feed. And feed he did. Draining the man’s emotions as rapidly as he could, he took as much power as was possible.

This was not for sustenance. No, this power – these emotions – were being stored, used to build up the Dementor’s ability to breed. He could feel the sensation building inside him; the power rushing forth.

“Wh-what’s…? Oh, _ohh, Christ_ …”

The sensations peaked, overwhelming the Dementor as the breed became successful. He let his instincts take over, sending a rush of sensation out from himself. Lust, pleasure, joy; they all were projected up and out as the Dementor produced a copy of itself.

“I… I…”

Refocussing, both Dementors stared down at the man on the floor of the basement. Covered with a second layer of white liquid, the column of flesh once again flaccid, he was an almost pathetic sight. Panting and groaning, he eyes glazed from reaction, his head tossed from side to side.

“Never been so… so…” The man stopped, panting. His hand had yet to stop stroking the now soft flesh. “Do it again.”

The Dementor turned from the man. He had succeeded in his primary objective: he had bred. He needed to rest; needed time to recuperate and recharge his body. His clone, on the other hand… If the Dementor could smile when he heard the man begin to groan again, he would have.


End file.
